


Road Trip?

by JustThatOneGirl1815



Series: Quicksilver x Reader [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: #Twinkie Boy, Adorable, F/M, Fluff, I'm gonna stop with the tags now, Mostly Fluff, One of My Favorites, Peter is trying his best, Read the other one first, Sequel, Soulmate UA, Visit the terrible parents, except towards the end, read ittttt, what could possibly go wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustThatOneGirl1815/pseuds/JustThatOneGirl1815
Summary: Set two years after Love = Balloons + Twinkies. Read that first, it will help. The reader gets a note from her parents and... ah fuck it you'll see. Anyways, they go on a road trip together and it's fantastic but terrible. Read the tags. Throughout the entire trip, Peter is keeping a secret. This story is like the happy, more developed older sibling to Love = Balloons + Twinkies. Read them both if you want feels and fluff with a plot. ALL RIGHTS GO TO MARVEL (except not all of them)





	1. Road Trip? Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is a sequel to Love = Balloons + Twinkies. It’s set two years in the future so Peter is 29 and the reader is 27. I’d like to imagine that it’s happening a bit after Deadpool 2, but that has nothing to do with the story. Moving on... some basic things to know is that the Reader came back with Peter to the X-Mansion and they live happily there. You know, sharing a room, dating, kissing, blah blah blah blah. I’m going to stop this intro now and get to the story. But before I do that, in case you haven't noticed, this will be a forty-five chapter story so get ready.

**CHAPTER 1**  
**(Y/N)’s POV**

A small, innocent letter laid on the floor near the crack in between the floor and the door. Picking it up, you began to read what it said. On the outside it read: “ _To (Y/N) (Y/L/N) From: Janelle and Mike (Y/L/N)_.” You froze reading the title. Those were names you hadn’t heard in a long time. You didn’t even bother opening the letter. Instead, you set it aside. You needed to think. It was early in the morning, Peter was still asleep in your bed and you needed to eat something. You put the letter in your drawer of the room, the one place that you and Peter didn’t share. He had a drawer to himself and you had a drawer to yourself. Everything in those was strictly confidential and the other person was not allowed to look in there under any circumstances. You smiled as you shut the drawer, looking over at Peter’s peaceful sleeping figure. After all that had happened to you in your life time, Peter had been the one to wipe it all away. Belle’s death mainly. Now, you only cried the day of, when it all came flooding back. Otherwise, Peter kept you happy. His dorky smile and never ending jokes. How he couldn’t go five minutes without seeing you because he was the most impatient person in the world. You loved him to death, and he loved you the same way. You didn’t need to read whatever your parents had sent you. You didn’t need them. You had Peter.

  
You left the room and went for breakfast. It wasn’t long before a certain silver speedster joined you, his hair ruffled and a smile already on his face.

“You’re up early,” he commented, sitting down in the seat beside you.

“Got hungry,” you replied. Peter’s arm snaked around your waist.

“Me too,” He whispered in your ear and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his cheesiness. You leaned into his figure and rested your head on his shoulder.

“I love you, Peter.”

“I love you too, (Y/N)” He murmured.

You took a bite of your pancakes and before you knew it, Peter had the fork and was eating a bite of them too.

“Peter,” You chided, “this is my breakfast.”

“Mhmm,” Peter hummed, stuffing another bite into his mouth.

You phased through him and his arm fell straight on to the chair, clanging loudly.

“Owwwww...” Peter howled, holding his arm.

“Don’t eat my pancakes,” You smiled, phasing back to normal.

“Okay, okay,” Peter whined, standing. He kissed the top of your head. “I’m going now, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He was gone in the blink of an eye. Actually, he was faster than that. You’d taken a few hours to calculate how fast Peter could actually run once and the answer you had come up with was really fucking fast. Peter seemed happy with that answer.

You finished up your breakfast and began walking towards the backyard, where you intended to feed the ducks on the pond with the extra pancake you were currently holding. Instead, your feet brought you back to your room. Peter wasn’t there, but the letter was. Sitting in your drawer. Waiting to be opened. You cursed and grabbed it out from its hiding spot.

“It’s not like reading this will hurt. I just can’t believe anything they say, that’s all.” You speak to yourself, hyping yourself up to open the letter.

“ _Dearest (Y/N),_

_I hope you’re doing well. I see you moved to New York. That’s quite a long ways away. I know that your father and I weren’t there for you when you were young, but I’m hoping we could make up for some of the time that we’ve lost. Your father and I are back together... it seems like you can’t avoid your soulmate forever. We’ve been trying to find you for some time now, we got back together a year ago. We both want to make amends for how we treated you when you were younger and to let you know that we can still be good parents to you. We’re living in San Francisco, and we were hoping that you might want to come and visit. Please write back, we miss you._

_With love, Mom and Dad_.”

You scoffed at the letter. This had to be one giant prank. A giant, elaborate prank designed to destroy your sense of self. That was it. A tear fell down your face as you reread the letter. They wanted to try again. Didn’t they know that you were 27 now and that you’ve moved on? Peter was all you needed, but the letter didn’t even acknowledge that you have a soulmate. They didn’t think of that, just like they didn’t think of what leaving their daughter on the side of the road would do to her. Screw them. You didn’t need them.

You kept repeating that line for the rest of the day, over and over you told yourself that you didn’t need them. You didn’t need them. You didn’t need them. It was getting annoying at this point, the constant repetition of one line that did nothing to help your cause. On top of it, you didn’t see Peter the entire day, and that wasn’t helping any.

It wasn’t until before dinner that you ran into him in the hallway.

**Peter’s POV**

Peter found himself running through the halls of the mansion, looking for the only person that could possibly help him with his predicament. Scott Summers. The ladies man himself. When he finally found him, Peter decided he needed to be on Scott’s good side, so he ran and grabbed a few donuts from the kitchen before coming back.

“Hey, Scott.” Peter coughed, feeling awkward already. He and Scott weren’t great friends, but they were friends at least. And right now he needed advice.

“Woah!” Scott jumped, spilling the coffee he was holding all over him.

Peter cursed and snatched napkins from the counter a few feet away. He handed them to Scott who was cursing so loudly, Peter thought he should stuff his mouth with the napkins instead so he’d stop cursing in front of eight year olds.

“Sorry, man.” Peter apologized.

Scott grabbed the napkins out of Peter’s hands and began drying himself off. “What do you want, Maximoff?”

Peter gulped, this was going terribly. “I... um... brought you donuts.” Peter shoved the donuts out in front of himself.

Scott looked at him skeptically. “You... brought me donuts?”

“Yep,” Peter chirped, trying to get this over quickly.

“Why?”

“Because I’m a good friend?”

“Tell that to my shirt.” Scott grumbled, seizing the donuts and stuffing one in his mouth.

“What’s going on over here?” A voice behind Peter questioned.

Peter whirled to see Jean Grey. Damn. She was a telepath and probably already knew what was running through his head.

“Peter scared the living hell out of me and I spilled my coffee all over myself except then he brought me donuts, so I’m starting to forgive him.” Scott explained.

“That... wasn’t why I came over here.” Peter forced the words out.

“What’d you come for then?” Scott asked.

Peter looked from his feet to Jean. If she could just say it for him, that would be great.

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, buddy. I can’t read minds lately. I tried a new medication yesterday to control my nightmares and stuff, except its affecting my powers. Can’t even move a paper clip.”

“Really?” Peter sighed, looking back to his feet. “I... uh... need some advice.”

Scott snorted. “Advice? From me? On what, how to wear red tinted sunglasses indoors and still look cool?”

“No... no, not that.” Peter gulped. Just spit it out you big oaf. The sooner he said it the sooner he’d get the advice he needed.

He opened his mouth, but stopped. There were too many people in here. What if Scott or Jean freaked out and someone overheard and started a rumor? No, he couldn’t say this here. Peter sped Scott and Jean to a secluded part of the school. Peter took a deep breath and time returned back to normal.

“What... dude you have to ask before running people halfway across the school.” Jean complained.

“Sorry, but this is um... sensitive.”

Scott got stiff. “Just spit it out already man, I got places to be.”

Peter bounced on the balls of his feet and took another breath. “I need advice on how to ask (Y/N) to marry me.”

Their reactions were exactly what he was expecting. Jaws unhinged, eyes wide, smiles slowly spreading across their faces.

“We’ve been together two years now, and I figured that I should ask eventually except I realized that I have no idea how to do it because that’s not the kind of thing you ask. Like “Hey, (Y/N), how would you like me to propose to you? Should I get down on one knee? Should I ask in front of the entire school? Should I take you to Venice and ask you while we’re floating down a channel in a gondola? Should I ask super casually when we’re hanging out like getting married is the most obvious choice in the wor-“

“Peter, shut up.” Scott snapped.

“What did I do? Should I not ask her? Is that a bad idea? Of course it is, we’re not there yet. I-“

“Peter! Stop rambling and let me talk for a second.”

Peter shut his mouth.

“I think it’s a great idea. (Y/N) loves you more than she loves... well anything. She’d definitely say yes. But, you are overthinking this. I know it’s, like, a big thing, but you guys have been together forever and there’s no need to get worked up about this.” Scott stated.

“Scott’s right on this one. You need to take a chill pill, Peter.” Jean pitched in.

“I know, I know. But, I want it to be something she’d like. And I need help because I have no idea what she’d like because I don’t know girls. So, I figured I’d ask you because you do and you could totally help me out here, Scott.”

Scott barked a laugh. “Yeah, I can help you with the nerves, but what you need is a girl for this type of stuff.”

“What?” Peter inhaled sharply.

“Yeah, if you want to know how (Y/N) wants to be proposed to you gotta bring the girl power of gossip.”

“I don’t...”

“I got this,” Jean said, walking away.

Peter froze. What was Jean doing? Dammit, Jean. Where was she going? She’d better not be saying anything to (Y/N).

While he was chasing her down, trying to find the red head, he ran straight into you.

“(Y/N)!” Peter exclaimed.

“Oh, Peter! I haven’t seen you all day.” You said to him. Peter gulped. How was he going to explain that he’d been running around wildly trying to convince himself that asking for Scott’s help was a good idea?

“Yeah... I’ve been busy.”

“Can I talk to you?” They both asked at the same time.

Peter looked at her in shock, not because she wanted to talk to him but because he’d just blurted that out like he was going to ask her now. That was a terrible idea.

“You go first,” He said.

“No, you can.”

“No, you.”

“Peter, you first.”

“You first.”

“Okay, okay.” You began. “My parents sent me a letter this morning. Apparently, they’re back together and they want to see me.”

“What?” Peter deadpanned, all traces of proposal gone from his mind.

“Yeah. And I’ve been trying to convince myself that I don’t need to go see them, except I think I do. Just so I can... I don’t know. But I wanted to see if maybe you’d come with me. Moral support, I guess.” You explained.

“Yeah, totally. Actually, I, uh,” His mind raced, trying to figure out something to say. “I was actually going to ask if you wanted to go on a road trip with me. I saw this news article that mapped an entire trip through 48 states and I thought it sounded kinda cool.” Shit. Why did he say that?

“A road trip?” You asked. “Peter, you do realize that involves sitting still for hours at a time.”

“Uh...” Peter panicked. Why did he say road trip? “Yeah, I do. But, sitting still isn’t so hard when I’m with you.”

“Okay, let’s do it. We can plan the trip tonight and tomorrow and then leave after we have everything packed. We can make this trip fun, into something that’s not entirely about visiting my deadbeat parents.” You decided.

“Wait, seriously?” Peter asked, blinking. His mind was working too slowly, he couldn’t keep up with everything you’d just said. You actually wanted to go on a road trip around the country? He was so screwed.

“Yeah, why not?”

“I just... didn’t think you’d say yes.”

You laughed, “I always say yes to you, Twinkie Boy.”

Peter smiled. But would you say yes if I asked you to marry me? His smiled faded. “Anyways, I gotta run. Jean took off with something of mine and I gotta go find her.”

“Jean managed to take something from you and you didn’t notice? That’s a first.”

“Shut up, I was distracted.” He explained.

“What’d she take?”

“My sanity,” Peter replied, and was off, not wanting to explain that last part.

Peter found himself in their bedroom. He flopped down on the bed and exhaled loudly. What had he gotten himself into? Just because you slowed time down for him doesn’t mean he could stand a road trip with you. Ughhh.

He sped around the room, already packing his stuff and your stuff too. He got everything. His pants, your pants. His shirts and your shirts. His underwear and yours. Your bras and other girl items. He grabbed a few other miscellaneous items and stuffed them in the duffel bags. He packed another bag full of extra supplies like a first aid kit, blankets, snacks, etc. Soon, there were three huge duffel bags packed to the top with everything they could possibly need for a trip. He found a map a few rooms over with all the roads and drew the entire plan out for where you and him were going to go.

The door opened and Peter spun around to see Jean Grey.

“Woah, what’s this?” She asked, seeing the bags and the map.

“I freaked out,” Peter began and explained the entire fiasco. “So, now we’re going on a road trip through 48 states and when we get to California we’re going to see her parents again and she hasn’t seen them in 17 years and this is all one big mess.”

“Wow, okay... so (Y/N) and I talked.” Jean responded.

“You did?” Peter sped over to where he was inches away from Jean. “What’d she say?”

“She said that you and her were going out tomorrow on a road trip and that tonight would be a great night for a girls night.”

“Huh?” Peter asked, not comprehending anything.

“Girls night. It’s the best time to ask things you would never ask under any other circumstances.”

Peter’s brain finally caught up to the conversation. “Ohh, yeah that’s a good idea.”

Jean smiled, “You’re welcome.”

**(Y/N)’s POV**

“So, next question.” Jean spoke. The two of you were having a girls night and somehow you’d agreed to playing Truth or Dare. “Truth or Dare?”

You thought for a moment. You’d already chosen three dares and ended up eating a ghost pepper, stealing Scott’s clothing and wearing it, and the worst of them all, she made you French kiss Hank and walk away without explanation. You weren’t doing that again.

“Truth.”

Jean hummed, “If Peter were to propose to you, how would you want him to do it?”

You froze. How would you want Peter to ask you? “Romantically and traditionally, I think. Maybe he’d bring me to a nice secluded spot that’s super peaceful and romantic or something. A love speech while he’s down on one knee, I guess. I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it. Peter... he’s not the type to ask me that way I guess. He’s too scatter brained, I’d be lucky if he even thinks about asking me. He’d probably just show up one day with two rings and a wedding dress and tell me that we’re getting married.”

Jean laughed and muttered something under her breath that you couldn’t understand.

“Truth or Dare?” You asked her.

“Dare.” She said, having answered Truth every time before this.

You thought for a moment. “Go make out with Scott for two minutes and then slap him and tell him that he’s bad at Easter decorations.”

Jean looked at you incredulously. “But, it’s not even Easter.”

You nodded and grabbed the camera Jean had used to film all the other dares.

**The Next Day, (Y/N)’s Perspective**

When you woke up, it was about midday and you were still asleep on Jean’s floor. Jean was not there. A note was on her bed.

_Hey sleepyhead. You slept in in case you have noticed yet. Peter has already packed the car and made sure it had plenty of gas. I’m hanging out with Scott today and if he asks me about last night, I’m telling him what happened. Btw, Hank wants to talk to you. — Jean_

You cursed. You had some explaining to do. There was no doubt that Hank had already told Peter about the kiss and Peter was probably freaking out. This is what you get for letting Jean rope you into Truth or Dare.

You headed towards your room where Peter was talking to Hank, confusion on his face. A plan formulated in your mind to mess with them.

“Hey, Peter.” You greeted.

“Hey,” He hummed, kissing your forehead. “Mind explaining what Hank is telling me?”

“What’s Hank telling you?” You asked, playing dumb.

“The kiss, (Y/N). You kissed me.” Hank deadpanned.

“Did I? Don’t remember that.” You played innocently.

“Are those Scott’s clothes?” Hank asked.

“Might be, might not be. Last night was wild.”

“What does that mean? You kissed me and slept with Scott?” Hank accused. “You have a boyfriend.”

“I don’t remember any of that, sorry.” You shrugged, when in fact, you remembered every second of it.

“I’ll talk to her about it,” Peter interrupted. “You should go, Hank. Don’t worry, I’m sure she was just really drunk.”

Hank nodded and left the room. Once he was definitely well away from the door you burst out laughing.

“What?” Peter questioned, confused.

“I’ll explain later. But just know that I didn’t sleep with Scott and kissing Hank was against my will.”

Peter shrugs, “Not like we don’t have the next few weeks together to sort this out.”

“Weeks?” You exclaimed.

“Yeah, the entire thing is going to take about a month.” Peter went on.

“A month? Holy shit.”

Peter smiled, “We should get going, then.”

“After breakfast.” You replied, holding up a hand.

“You mean lunch?” Peter chided.

You scoffed and walked out of the room. Peter called after you.

“Meet me at the car in ten minutes!”

“Okay, Twinkie Boy!”

**Peter’s POV**

To be honest, Peter probably would have been mad about the whole “kissing Hank” situation had Jean not told him. But luckily for him, Jean had come to him that morning and told him your answer to the truth or dare question. She also explained that she’d dared (Y/N) to kiss Hank and walk away without explanation. If anything, Peter was mad at Jean for making his girlfriend— hopefully fiancé one day— kiss another guy. That was just cruel.

He was waiting by the drivers seat of the car. You had made him get a drivers license last year so that you could both drive places now. Of course, he never needed to drive until this point either. Peter sighed. Ten minutes was a long time.

When you walked out of the school towards the car, it took everything in him not to pick you up and place you in the front seat so they could get going. He tapped his foot impatiently.

Peter got in the car as you got in and started the ignition. He put the car into gear and began driving.

 


	2. Road Trip? Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to New York City.

**(Y/N)’s POV**

It was safe to say that Peter was already going out of his mind. His fingers were tapping rapidly against the steering wheel and he’d cranked up the music so loud that it could probably be heard in England. Still, you couldn’t help but smile at him. He was so adorable, even when he was impatient.

As the car kept moving along the road, you looked out the window. A sign on the side of the road read “Welcome to New York City.” You pointed it out to Peter, but you had to yell over the music.

* * *

Peter parked the car and hopped out. Before you could even touch the door handle, he was opening the car door for you. You laughed. He was the sweetest dork in the world.

The two of you walked around New York for a while, hand in hand. You tried some New York bagels, which were arguably the most delicious things you’d ever had. You took pictures of Peter in front or various attractions, and he took pictures of you.

You were taking a picture of Peter with the Statue of Liberty behind him when a woman came up and offered to take the pictures for you. You let her have the camera and jogged over to Peter. The woman snapped the pictures while the two of you posed in various ways. At one point, Peter convinced you to get on top of his shoulders and make the same pose as Lady Liberty.

When you were done with the pictures the woman gave the camera back.

“Are you two a couple?” She asked, looking between us.

“Yeah,” you answered. “Been together two years now.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. Are you married yet?” She continued.

You turned to Peter, whose face had gone red. “Haven’t gotten around to it yet.” He choked out. You laughed.

“We’re taking it slow. We both have some... family issues.” You continued, because Peter’s response was a bit too blunt.

“Ah, I see. Well, you two take care.” The woman began walking away, waving like how you would imagine a little old witch in a fairy tale to be waving.

You took Peter’s hand and kissed it. “That got you flustered.”

“I wasn’t expecting it,” he defended himself, his voice rising up an octave.

“I know you weren’t, babe.” You whispered. “You want to go to the Empire State Building next?”

Peter smiled at your affections, “Sure.”

You dragged him along the busy streets. Everything around you was lit up with lights and it seemed like the place was always busy. You were suddenly glad that you didn’t have super hearing; you’d go insane. Thousands of heartbeats hidden under coats, thousands of car horns honking endlessly, thousands of people talking. You squeezed Peter’s hand tighter.

When you reached the Building, it was getting dark. There was a line waiting to go up. Not a long one, only about ten people deep, but given that you’d never been there before, you had no idea how many people went up at a time and for how long.

Five minutes later you were beginning to wonder if there was a staircase. Peter came back with the tickets.

“You would not believe how rude the people who work here are. I had to explain the the ticket guy eight times that I was here with another person and we’d like tickets to the main viewing deck and the top deck. Then, apparently he didn’t like my money. Probably because it wasn’t a credit card. Not to mention that when I asked if we could use the stairs, he snapped at me and went on a long ramble about how the stairs are closed to all guests meanwhile, I just want to take my tickets and leave.” Peter ranted.

“So in other words, you had a great time.”

“Yeah, in other words.” Peter remarked sourly.

You leaned in close towards Peter’s ear. “I’ll tell you what, how about you run us up to the main viewing deck using the stairs anyways. I don’t feel like waiting here in line.”

Peter looked at you and a grin crossed his face. Before you knew it, you were on the 86th floor. In front of you, New York stretched out in a brilliant sea of gunmetal greys and shining lights.

“Wow, from up here you really can see how bright the lights are.” Peter commented, squinting.

“You gonna go blind, babe?”

“Nah, besides, I’ve got something much prettier to look at.” Peter said, his gaze shifting to you.

“Aweee,” A voice came from nearby. You snickered.

“Even the strangers think you’re cheesy, Peter.”

Peter laughed. “Well, that’s just part of my fantastic personality.”

“More like annoying.” You retorted.

Peter scoffed, “Annoying? Me? Never.”

You smiled and looked into his eyes. You were suddenly reminded of the first time you’d seen them; him leaning over you, his silver hair falling into your face, and excitement radiating off of him. Peter took a step closer to you.

“How would you feel about me kissing you right now?”

“I think you should save it for the 102nd floor.” You whispered back.

“Why don’t I kiss you on both floors?” Peter responded, his voice low and husky.

“Okay, Twinkie Boy.”

Peter’s lips connected with yours softly, his hands wrapped behind your back to pull you closer to him. You wondered how many people were watching, but you decided that you didn’t care. You cupped his cheek in your hand and kissed him back. You pulled away from his kiss and pushed him away gently. Peter grumbled a complaint.

“But we were having so much fun.” He complained as you walked towards the staircase.

Peter must have grabbed you and run you up to the 102 floor because next thing you knew, you were standing on a cramped balcony outside with an even more breathtaking view of the city.

You whistled as you looked out at it. Peter’s arms wrapped around your waist and his chin rested on your shoulder as you looked out at the beautiful view.

Suddenly, you realized that you wanted a picture of you and Peter together up here. Something to remember the moment by, or to show to your friends later. You twisted around so Peter would have to let go of you.

“One second,” You said to him, walking around the balcony until you found another tourist.

“Excuse me, sir?” You asked a tall, scraggly man. He had brown hair and a smile on his face. “Would you mind taking a picture of me and my boyfriend?”

“ ‘Course not, as long as you take a picture of me and my daughter.” The man replied, and you looked down to see a tiny child with her brown hair up in pigtails and a yellow dress on.

“Thanks so much,” You thanked as you led him and his daughter back to where Peter was waiting impatiently.

“Who’s this?” Peter asked.

You explained the deal to him and Peter nodded his head, agreeing. “Sounds good to me.”

You handed him the camera and moved to you position with Peter.

“Scoot to the left a little bit,” the man directed. You did.

“Okay, 3...2...1..”

On “2” Peter pulled you close to him and kissed you passionately, surprising you and the man currently taking the picture. Still, you registered a click of the camera shutters over the general shock of Peter’s surprise kiss.

“Daddy! They’re kissing!” The little girl exclaimed.

“I didn’t notice,” The father replied, his voice dry.

Peter pulled away from the kiss and you blinked at him. You felt your face go red. “Little warning next time, Peter?” You squeaked.

Peter shrugged, “Couldn’t help myself.” He leaned in towards your ear. “You just looked so sexy.”

You slapped his arm before moving away to take your camera back, apologizing profusely for your boyfriend’s behavior.

You took a picture of the father and daughter before handing back their camera.

“It was nice to meet you!” The little girl exclaimed and she and her father left the balcony.

You waved a goodbye at her before turning back to Peter.

“What?” He asked, upon seeing you staring at him.

“I’m angry at you for kissing me without warning while people were watching. Specifically a child.”

Peter moved closer to you on the cramped balcony. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Hmmm, I think another kiss might do it.”

“Really, you think so?”

“I don’t know, should we test it out?” You waggled your eyebrows and pushed Peter up against the wall behind him, kissing him shamelessly.

You’re not entirely sure how long that kiss went on for, you were just glad that no one stumbled upon your make out session. When you pulled away from Peter’s lips, both of you were breathless. His hair was messy, from having your hands running through the locks. You got the feeling yours was the same way when Peter reached out and smoothed it down.

“We should do that more often,” he commented.

“Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I have never been to New York, so all of my descriptions are limited to what I can find on the internet.  
> 2nd Note: I will post on Sunday's, I just really wanted to post today.  
> 3rd Note: Don't be afraid to comment. I love comments. I answer comments. Comments make me smile. Constructive criticism is welcomed, other criticism will be tolerated but most likely ignored, fangirling will probably be replied to with the word "same."   
> 4th Note: Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.


	3. Road Trip? Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to Connecticut and Rhode Island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Welcome to Chapter 3. Today, you and Peter will be going through Connecticut and Rhode Island. This chapter includes the songs Take On Me and Come On Eileen, so all all credit goes to A-Ha and Dexy’s Midnight Runners for their respective songs blah blah blah. Anyways, I’m going to stop talking (typing?) now. Wait... no I’m not. This chapter goes out to ultimatewholockfangirl for being absolutely fantastic.

**Your POV:**

“TAKE ON ME!” You screamed to the music, Peter was next to you doing the exact same thing.

“I’LL BE GONEEEEE IN A DAY OR TWOOOOOOO!” You both sang, ridiculously off key.

The song ended and you and Peter were left laughing hysterically at each other’s singing. You tried to keep your eyes on the road as best as you could, but it was difficult to see through your tears of laughter.

Peter was holding his stomach and trying desperately to get air in his lungs. This made the both of you break out in even more laughter.

“Good god, Peter. I didn’t know your voice could go that high.” You complimented after your last laughing spurt.

“What like this?” Peter asked before screeching like a pterodactyl. You winced, but the smile never left your face.

“No, that’s horrid!”

Peter proceeded to screech three more times, each time his voice getting higher pitched.

Not long after that, you pulled off onto an exit and turned into a gas station. “Let’s take a bathroom and candy break.”

You went to the bathroom, fixed your hair and makeup, and washed your hands before exiting the facilities. You found Peter with three boxes of Twinkies and a soda. You shook your head at him.

“Just one, Twinkie Boy.”

“But they’re on sale...” Peter complained.

“One.” You said, sternly. You grabbed a package of Reese’s off the shelf and went to the checkout.

“One box of Twinkies, a soda, a Reese’s, and one water.” The man at the checkout counter recited. “You do know that there’s a sale on the Twinkies, right?”

You glared at the man angrily. Why did he have to bring up the sale? Before you knew it, Peter was back with the other boxes.

You paid for the junk food and returned to the car, shaking your head as Peter stuffed yet another Twinkie in his mouth.

  
You ended up stopping at the Mark Twain House and Museum. The house was a large and elegant red building that was aesthetically appealing with it’s curved walls and straight roofs. On the other hand, the museum was just blah in comparison. Still, it was entertaining enough as you and Peter walked through the museum and climbed up the stairs to the house, hands intertwined. Peter would read the text on the information boards in seconds, or less, and would give you a basic rundown of it while you were walking to the next one. It was endearing in a strange sort of way.

You took pictures together in front of the house and in varying rooms. Peter didn’t pull another kissing fiasco, luckily. He limited himself to little forehead kisses or pecks on the cheek, he must have been satisfied by your hand in his.

After the Mark Twain House, the two of you checked into a hotel and brought your bags up to your room.

“So, tomorrow we head to Rhode Island, right?” Peter shouted to you in the bathroom from his position in the bed.

“Yep, you can drive tomorrow if you want.” You called back.

Peter made a noise equivalent to an “Okay, I’ll do that.”

You finished taking off your makeup and brushing your teeth so your left the bathroom and joined Peter on the bed. He wrapped his arms around you and you snuggled into his shoulder.

“Do you want to watch a movie?’ He asked quietly.

“Maybe later, just hold me for now.” You replied, closing your eyes.

“Okay.” Peter answered shortly, kissing the top of your head.

Peter smelled like whatever you’d imagine the wind to smell like mixed with icing. His hands were warm and his embrace inviting. You found yourself drifting off. Peter’s breathing lulled you into a deep sleep safe in his arms.

When you woke up, Peter was still there. He had a peaceful, content expression on his face and you realized that you didn’t want to leave you position for fear of him waking up and losing his calm expression. You rubbed circles into the back of his hand slowly and listened to his heartbeat which always seemed to beat a little too fast.

Peter’s eyes fluttered open and you turned to him. “Morning, babe.” You whispered.

“Morning... what time is it?”

“I have no idea,” You answered, not taking your gaze away from his brown eyes.

“You should check,” Peter said, not looking away from you eyes either.

You did, and it was 9:10 in the morning. The two of you decided to pack up your stuff and hit the road.

In the car, you sat in the passenger seat, and chowed down on a protein bar. Peter had finished his in milliseconds, and was now driving down the interstate towards Providence.

“So, what are we planning on doing in RI anyways?” Peter asked you.

“I was thinking we could visit the Superman Building and then maybe get some dinner.” You answered.

“Superman Building?” Peter questioned, turning to look at you.

“Yeah, you know t-“ you stopped speaking at a familiar tune on the radio.

“What?” Peter asked. You shushed him and turned up the volume.

“Come on Eileen, oh I swear (what he means)! At this moment you mean everything! My thoughts I confess, verge on dirty! Oh, come on Eileen!”

Peter laughs as you belt out the lyrics passionately.

“Come on Eileen oh I swear (what he means). Ah come on lets, take off everything. That pretty red dress, Eileen (tell him yes) Ah come on lets, ah come on Eileen. That pretty red dress, Eileen (tell him yes). Ah come on lets, ah come on Eileen, please!” You continued singing and Peter eventually joined in, unable to resist the catchy song.

“Come on Eileen!” You finished loudly when the song ended. You leaned back in you seat, content. “That, Peter, is arguably one of the best songs in existence.”

“I doubt that, but I’ll give it to you.”

You smiled wide and turned the radio back down as another song you didn’t know came on.

When the two of you arrived in Providence, you did exactly what you had suggested earlier. You parked the car and walked slowly with Peter over to a position with a good view of the Superman Building. You took Peter’s picture in the Superman pose and he did the same for you.

It was too early to go to dinner, so the two of you walked around for a while. You didn’t really look at anything in particular, you just walked.

Eventually, you ended up at a park. You pulled out your camera and took a picture of Peter in front of the statue with a guy on a horse. Behind the statue some ways, was a fountain. You walked over to the fountain. Peter took this opportunity to use his super speed to run into the fountain, splash you, and get out of the fountain before the water even hit you.

You found yourself soaked from head to toe in fountain water. Off to the side, Peter stood trying to contain his laughter. You flicked the water dripping off of you at him, but he simply moved out of the way.

“Peter!” You groaned. “I’m soaking wet now, I can’t go to dinner like this.”

Peter came within inches of you. “Sure you can.”

“No, I can’t.” You sighed, pressing your hand to his shirt, leaving a imprint of your hand on his shirt.

The scenery changed. You were next to the car now. Your clothes weren’t wet anymore, because you were wearing something entirely different. In fact, you were wearing a sleek red dress with jewels running down one side. Next to you, leaning against the car, was Peter Maximoff. A smug expression lined his face but what he wore distracted you from anything else. He was wearing a tuxedo. A full on tuxedo. It was black and white with a silver bow tie. His hair was slicked back with hair gel. You looked in the window of the car at your reflection. Peter had styled your hair into perfect curls, applied some makeup on your face (particularly the bright red lipstick), and given you gorgeous diamond earrings and a necklace.

“Did I do a good job?” Peter asked.

“Holy shit...” You breathed out. “Where’d you get this stuff from?”

“Stole it from a few of the stores nearby. I figured I’d take you out for a real dinner tonight. I can return the stuff after.”

You wanted to scold him for stealing, but you were still in shock by your appearance. “Yeah, yeah, definitely give this back after. It probably costs a fortune. Are these real diamonds?”

“Yep,” Peter chirped. Your jaw dropped open.

“And your hair! It’s styled... and your wearing a suit!” You exclaimed.

Peter smiled. “I am.”

“And a bow tie.”

“Bow ties are cool.” Peter stated, straightening the bow. “I almost forgot!”

Peter suddenly had flowers in his hands. “I have no idea what you’re going to do with these, but I saw them and thought you might like them.”

You took the flowers and sniffed them. They smelled heavenly.

Peter held out his arm, “Shall we go, my love?”

“We shall.” You grinned and took his arm. He sped the two of you outside a fancy restaurant. You had absolutely no idea where you were. You could be back in New York given how fast Peter could run. It put an air of mystery into the night that made tingles run down your spine. Wait, no... that was Peter’s hand on the small of your back. He walked with you into the fancy restaurant with low lighting and other couples dressed in fancy attire like yours. A host led you to a table and Peter pulled out your chair for you.

“Are you going to be able to afford any of this, Peter?” You asked.

He leaned in close. “Nope, we’re ditching after we eat.”

You barked a laugh. “You are ridiculous. We could get arrested.”

“Okay... fair enough. I’ll pay for half the meal and then we’ll ditch.”

The waiter came to the table. “Hello, my name is Ryan and I’ll be serving you tonight. Would you like to have some of our wine and cheeses to start?”

“Just the cheeses, please.” You said, using a British accent that made you feel as elegant as you looked. Peter raised an eyebrow.

“You sure you don’t want the wine, doll?” He asked, in a Russian accent.

“I’m sure. Just the cheeses.”

The waiter nodded and left.

“So now you’re my British girlfriend, I see.” Peter remarked in his normal voice.

“And you’re my Russian boyfriend.” I responded.

“We should totally act like we’re married and we’re super posh people.” Peter said.

“Married and posh. I like that idea.” You responded.

The waiter came back with the cheeses. “Took you long enough.” Peter commented in his Russian accent.

“I’m very sorry, sir.” The waiter apologized quickly.

“Don’t worry about him. You were right on time... though I would like some water to drink. I’m parched.” You said, putting heavy emphasis on the last word in your accent.

“Of course, ma’am.”

“It’s madame to you.” You retorted, trying to keep yourself from laughing. You felt bad for being rude to the man, but you were having the time of your life pretending to be British and a jerk.

“Naturally, Madame.” The waiter left hurriedly before you could say anything else.

Peter looked at you, his expression serious before he burst out into laughter. “Madame?”

“Oh god, we should tip this guy heavily just for dealing with us being mean to him.”

“With what money?” Peter asked you.

“I have no idea. We’ll have to figure that out later.”

Your drinks came, but this time the two of you simply said thanks and didn’t torture the waiter. The relief on his face was obvious.

The two of you talked about trivial matters in posh tones. A commercial you saw on the television, the last episode of Star Trek, what was happening in your book, little things. The catch was that you had to talk about it in character with the accent and mean quips. The first one to laugh had to chip in another dollar towards the waiter’s tip. Currently, the man was going to get well paid with a tip of twenty-two dollars.

Your dinners came and the food was more than amazing. Each bite exploded with flavor in your mouth and it took everything not to melt on the spot.

“Anyways, as I was saying.” Peter began. “So Coca-Cola introduced this new coke and I purchased twenty cases of it because I am a stuck up Russian snob who doesn’t know that you need to try it first before you buy twenty fucking cases. And I cracked open one of them, and it was horrid! I spit it out and went back to the store I bought it from just to yell at the employees there that their fucking coke tasted like horse shit!”

You tried to refrain from laughter, but failed. You added another tally to the napkin. $23.

The waiter brought the check and you looked at it. $372 in total for the cheese plate, soups, main courses, and the shared dessert. You scoffed. “No, no, no. The soups were 16 dollars, not seventeen. And the dessert is half price because it’s Tuesday.”

“It’s... it’s not Tuesday, Madame.” The waiter replied, completely glossing over the fact that the half price deal wasn’t even an option.

“Don’t try to tell me what day it is or isn’t. I’m not an idiot. Now go remake this.” You shoved it in his face. The poor, flustered man grabbed it and turned back to the kitchen.

As quickly as possible, you pulled twenty-five dollars out of your purse and slapped it on the table. You glanced around to see if the waiter was coming back. Hurriedly, you took off your earrings and laid them on the table.

“Let’s run, Twinkie Boy.” You spoke in your British accent.

Peter smiled and suddenly you were back at the car in jeans and a t-shirt. Looking at your reflection, you saw that Peter had wiped off the lipstick, eyeshadow, and heavy contour you’d sported not ten seconds ago. Peter was next to you, in his typical silver jeans and jacket. His hair returned to normal, no trace of gel in it at all.

“We should hit the road.” He said and you nodded, jumping into the driver’s seat of the car.

You started the ignition and put the car into gear, speeding off down the road. In the distance, sirens wailed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it for Chapter 3. I’d like to say that I’ve never been to Connecticut or Rhode Island so I have no idea what to write about. However, I happen to love the two songs presented in this chapter so, that’s something I guess. Also, I’d like to go ahead and say that the next chapter goes out to Uhhhhhhidkman for being an amazing reviewer who somehow always manages to respond to my responses within like ten minutes and idk how they do it, but they’ve got my respect.


	4. Road Trip? Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 4! So this Chapter takes place in Boston, MA. I’d like to mention that I have been to Boston, but I was only there for a few hours because I had another flight afterwards. Good news, I have pictures. Bad news, they’re all of the Boston Library. Anyways, this is one of my favorite chapters, so enjoy. (A/N) This Chapter goes out to Uhhhhhhidkman for being fantastic.

Peter’s POV

Peter looked over at you. Your hands were on the steering wheel and your eyes fixed on the road. Your mascara had smudged some around your right eye from where you’d been sleeping. Your lips were puckered in concentration and your index fingers were tapping the wheel in time with the beat of the song currently playing. The light shone on your face in a flattering way, hitting your cheekbones and the bridge of your nose, making your face angular in a way that he didn’t see often. He smiled. You hadn’t noticed him staring at you for the past ten minutes and for once he didn’t want the attention. He just wanted to look at the way the light hit your face, illuminating all the beautiful details of your face. Peter couldn’t wipe the small smile off his face as he looked at you.

The early stages of the road trip involved little two hour drives between the cities, so this was only the third day of the trip. It was safe to say that Peter was struggling with sitting around for ages, but at their last stop, you had let him run for a while. Not that you could have stopped him...

“Peter?” You asked. He hummed a response.

“What’s the next exit I have to take?”

“Oh, um,” Peter scrabbled for the map. “What did we just pass?”

“15.”

“Oh, then” He rotated the map and squinted at it. “Take 16.”

You drifted into the right lane so you could take the next exit.

“Peter?”

“Yes?”

“How much sleep did you get?”

“None.”

“Why?” You asked him.

“I was distracted.”

“By?”

“You.”

You chuckled and Peter’s heart melted a little. He flirted with you as often as possible just for that little laugh and to see the way the corners of your mouth turned up slightly and the way your cheeks would turn a light shade of pink.

“What are we doing in Boston?” He asked.

“I’ve heard they have the second largest library in the US, and the first largest public one, so I figured we could go there. And then maybe we could go see a few other places like the Boston Massacre site, the Boston Tea Party Museum, the Freedom Trail.”

“How do you do a museum for the Boston Tea Party?” Peter questioned.

“I don’t know, but you can run faster than the speed of sound and I can phase through things so that doesn’t surprise me.”

Peter nodded, to caught up in the way your mouth moved while the words drifted out to respond verbally. He found himself reaching over to put his hand on your thigh. You looked down at it quickly before your gaze returned to the road, however you let go of the steering wheel with your right hand to take his. Peter sighed.

“So... I’m thinking that the last three places you mentioned are too serious for us to make out at, so we should definitely do that in the library.” Peter remarked casually.

You shook your head and laughed and Peter felt the smile on his face grow. He loved your laugh.

“How about we don’t make out in any of those places.”

“But... that’s no fun.” He complained.

“Alright, you can kiss me while we’re in the library, but just once and not for long.” You compromised.

“M’kay. I can do that.” Peter said.

* * *

  
The two of you walked in the doors to the library and Peter, while amazed by the architecture and design of the place, found himself staring at you again. Your hand was in his and an awestruck smile had plastered itself onto your face.

“Oh my god, Peter. Look.”

Peter was looking, just not at what you were pointing to. The two of you walked hand in hand for a ways before you came into an entrance hall of sorts that was so beautiful even Peter had to look.

While marble stairs lined the floor going down in the middle and on the sides of the room they led upwards. Separating the staircases, sitting on the wall dividing them, were two large, carved lions. On the walls, beautiful murals were painted, depicting various scenes, but most of them had elegant white pegasi. Towards the back wall, four beautiful arched columns accented the place. Hanging from the ceiling was a large chandelier that lit the room in a golden glow.

“Woah...” Peter exhaled. Suddenly, he wished he’d been paying attention to the rest of the library.

The two of you explored the place some more, and the awestruck expression only grew from room to room. Eventually, the two of you walked into a small, low lit room with no one in it. Peter turned to you.

“So... how long do I get to kiss you for?” Peter asked, already moving towards you.

You looked around, the room was empty, and while walking here, you hadn’t seen anyone going near the direction you and Peter had gone.

Peter was getting closer, his hands already drifting towards your hips.

“Until I stop kissing you back,” you decided.

“I can do that.” Peter hummed. His lips touched yours gently and his hands wrapped around your back, pulling you towards him. He soon forgot about everything as you kissed him back. Your hands were in his hair and you smelled like vanilla and roses. Peter pushed you into the wall behind you, his hands moving back to your hips. Your tongue flicked into his mouth and Peter couldn’t hold back the low moan that escaped his lips. Your fingers curled around his hair and Peter’s nails dug into the fabric of your shirt.

All too soon, you pulled away from the kiss. Peter was disappointed, but he soon understood when a small family walked into the room.

Peter hurriedly fixed his appearance, as did you. Still, Peter couldn’t take his eyes off the little details on your face. You lips were slightly swollen and red from the kiss, your mascara had smudged even more. The shirt you were wearing had yet to be straightened from where he’d grabbed onto it.

The rest of the day was spent touring various sites. The Boston Massacre site, the Boston Tea Party Museum, and the Freedom Trail were all finished within a matter of hours. By the time the two of you were finished, it was 3:00.

“Should we get lunch before we hit the road?” He asked.

“It’s a little late to call it lunch, but sure, why not?” You replied.

You and Peter walked casually along the sidewalks, contemplating various diners and restaurants to eat at. Eventually you settled down at a small diner founded a few months back.

Peter looked over the menu and saw that they had a mega sized cheeseburger. He smiled and pointed it out to you.

“Go ahead, with your metabolism you’ll still be hungry afterwards.”

The smile on Peter’s face grew. The waitress came over.

“Are you ready to order?” She asked, her accent heavy.

“Yeah. I’d like the small pepperoni pizza with water and my boyfriend would like the mega-burger challenge with soda.” You ordered for them.

“You sure? The mega-burger has six 1/3 pound patties on it. You should probably share.” The waitress asked, looking at Peter’s physique.

“He’s sure. He’s got the metabolic rate of a racehorse.” You replied, handing over the menus.

The waitress laughed. “Okay then, one small pepperoni pizza and one mega-burger challenge coming right up.”

Five minutes later, the waitress was coming back with the drinks. She set the soda down in front of Peter and the water down in front of you. Peter, being super thirsty, reached out for the drink using super speed. Except, he miscalculated and the glass tipped over. It knocked into yours and tipped your glass over too. Soda and water spilled everywhere and the waitress yelped and leaped back in shock. Peter, luckily, was completely unaffected by the liquid spilling everywhere. You, on the other hand, now looked like you’d gone swimming in your clothing.

“Peter!” You half-screamed at him.

Peter didn’t even bother to apologize. He ran back into the kitchen and grabbed multiple towels. He returned to the table and started drying you off. He remembered that he needed to slow down otherwise you would have gone from soaking to perfectly dry in the blink of an eye. The waitress stared at him. Probably because he’d gone from his seat to right next to you in the blink of and eye and had time to get towels. Understandable.

“So sorry,” he apologized handing over a towel to you.

You scoffed. “First the fountain and now this. You really want an excuse to take my clothes off, don’t you?”

Peter’s face turned red and he started coughing. “No.” He choked out.

“Just saying...” You began, but Peter cut you off.

“Why don’t I run and get you some dry clothes?” He interrupted.

You nodded in a clear, ‘That’s a good idea.” Peter walked hurriedly out of the diner before speeding to the car, throwing open your bag, and grabbing some clothes. He returned to the diner and handed them to you. Luckily, the waitress had returned to the kitchen and he didn’t have to explain how he got you a change of clothes so fast.

You went to the bathroom to change while Peter sat awkwardly at the table. It had been dried off already and the tablecloth changed. Around him, the other people in the diner had returned to their meals. All except one man, who was staring at Peter rather angrily. Peter looked away.

You came out of the bathroom in the fresh clothes, your wet ones rolled into a bundle in your hand. You sat down and Peter began the lengthy apology he’d planned out in the last two minutes.

“Peter, it’s fine.” You snapped. He got the feeling it wasn’t fine, but he stopped apologizing anyways.

Your food came first. Peter waited impatiently for his burger to come, but was distracted by the pizza sauce on the corner of your mouth to notice when it finally did.

Of course, he did notice the loud clang and the swearing of the waiter that brought it out. Peter saw the many patties of his mega-burger on the floor. The melted cheese and bacon still stuck to the patties. One of the buns had flown and his a small child in the head. The other was glued to a patty by the will power of the melted cheese.

Peter couldn’t help the small yelp that escaped his lips upon seeing his burger on the floor. “Noooo!” He whispered in shock. “My burger...”

You began laughing.

“Shut up, this isn’t funny.”

“It kinda is.”

The waiter began apologizing and Peter managed to completely tune it out as what used to be his burger was picked up off the floor and thrown into the trash.

Peter was told that another mega-burger was being made already but Peter found that he’d already grown an emotional connection to the burger that had hit the floor.

He watched in sorrow as you ate your pizza. Just before you took a bite out of the last slice, he spoke up. “Can I have a bite?”

You nodded and handed over the slice, but before it could reach your hand the angrily-staring customer began yelled.

“THEY’RE MUTANT SCUM I’M TELLING YA!” He yelled, standing. You and Peter froze.

“Sir, please calm down. There are no mutants in this restaurant.” A waitress tried to console the raging man.

You and Peter looked to each other in alarm. “Just act normal, he might not be talking about us.” You whispered quietly.

The man was told to calm down a few more times, all not having any effect except making the man angrier. He flipped the table, sending drinks, silverware, and plates of food everywhere. He turned towards the table the two of you were sitting at, breathing heavily with his fists clenched at his sides.

“Oh, fuck.” Peter whispered. The man picked up a knife and hurled it at you. As it flew towards you, Peter began moving at his incredible speeds. He could see that you were already phasing, your body becoming intangible. He let the knife fly on it’s path, confident that it wouldn’t hurt you. Instead, he picked up the table and reset it with new silverware, plates, and cups. He also cleaned up the mess the flip had brought with it. He looked at his finished product and let time return to normal, standing behind the angry man.

The knife flew straight through you and implanted itself into the wall. Peter tapped on the man’s shoulder. Gasps rang through the diner. The man, whose face was both shock and angry, threw a punch. Time slowed once more and Peter redirected the man’s punch so that he punched himself. As time sped up to normal speed once again, the man knocked himself out. Peter looked on with a smug smile on his face. He looked to you and found that you were pulling the knife out of the wall. You set it on the table and smiled at Peter. He sped over to you. The entire diner was still silent, no one moving a muscle.

“Nice one, babe.” He said.

“You too,” you replied, looking behind him. “Did you fix the table?”

“Yeah, how’d I do?”

You phased through him and walked over to the newly fixed table. Peter shivered, it always felt weird when you did that. “Pretty good. A+.”

Peter gave a sarcastic victory jump and pecked you on the cheek. “Thanks, babe” The point of the kiss was to let everyone in the diner know that you were his and he’d knock everyone out with their own fists if anyone tried to touch you.

Peter realized that he was very hungry, half because of the energy spent running the other being that he was already hungry. He stole someone burger at super speed and began eating it at normal speed, feet away.

You slapped the burger out of his hand and it fell to the ground. Peter looked at the second burger that had fallen to the ground, tears welling up in his eyes.

“What did I tell you about using your powers for trivial things?” You snapped at him.

“Don’t, except I probably can’t stop you anyways.” He quoted you word for word.

You sighed. “This is why we can’t have nice things, Peter.”

“Naturally,” he replied. Time slowed down around him. He picked up the unconscious angry man and put him back in his seat. He stole another table’s pizza and ate it. He slapped fifty dollars down on the table you and him had been sitting at as well as a note reading “Sorry for the mess and the trouble. And the hole in your wall (though that wasn’t out fault.) - Your friendly neighborhood mutants.” And then he grabbed you, making sure to place his hand ont he back of your neck so you don’t get whiplash, and sped you back to the car.

Time returned to its normal speed and you looked at him. He shrugged and hopped in the driver’s seat. “It’s my turn to drive.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s all of Chapter Four. I tried to use this chapter to describe Peter’s point of view when he’s speeding around as well as when he’s with you. I think I did an okay job. Anyways, I’ll see you in Chapter Five. (A/N): So I went back to read and edit this chapter and then it started pouring like it was the fucking end of the world and idk man, it’s only 9 in the morning, I don’t have the time for this.


	5. Road Trip? Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Chapter 5 is here. There’s a John Mulaney comedy piece where he says “That’s when the afternoon went from good to great,” well, that’s sorta the description for this chapter expect using the words terrible and even worse. In other words, I got to have some fun. The Reader and Peter are driving up to Augusta, Maine and this is set not long after their lovely diner experience. This chapter goes out to Missweirdness2079 for being the first person to comment on Love = Balloons + Twinkies......... Get ready...

**(Y/N)’s POV**

You woke up from a short lived nap to Peter cursing loudly.

“What?” You asked, sitting up.

“We’re out of gas.” He said. You looked around. Peter had pulled to the side of the road— road being interstate.

“Well... shit.” You replied. “Is there a gas station nearby? You could run and go get some.

“Nope, not for another long ways, and I’m low on energy. I need like thirty minutes of sleep and a proper mega-burger before I can run again.” Peter replied. His stomach growled and he pointed to it and gave you a look that clearly read ‘see?’

“Great... is there a way to call someone for a tow?”

“No... tried that already while you were asleep.”

You sighed and leaned your head back. “So... now what?”

Peter did the same. “I have no idea.”

**Two hours later**

“Do you have a five?” You asked.

“No, go fish.” Peter replied. His stomach growled again.

“Me too... it’s getting cold in here too.” You commented, wrapping the blanket around you tighter. Peter hummed in response.

“Do you have a seven?” He questioned.

You grumbled and handed it over.

On the interstate beside you, cars continued to pass by. You sighed, if just one could pull over.

“Two?” You asked, not expecting anything.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Peter yelled, and handed over three of them, angrily. You smiled.

“Better luck next time, babe.”

“Better luck next time, babe.” Peter copied, using an inaccurate accent that was probably supposed to be your voice.

_Tap, tap, tap._

You jumped out of your seat, behind you a woman and man stood. You’d been so distracted by the card game that you hadn’t noticed them pull over. You rolled down the window.

“You guys okay?” The woman asked.

“No,” Peter replied, too quickly.

“We’re out of gas.” You explained.

“That’s what we thought,” the man said. “We have an extra canister in the back if you’d like some. Would probably be enough to get ya to the next gas station.”

Peter’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights. “Really?! Thank you.” He climbed out of the car, and you opened your door.

Peter and the man began filling up the tank with as much gas as the couple had. You turned to the woman.

“Thanks so much. We ran out a couple of hours ago and we’ve been suffering since. I’m (y/n), by the way.” You introduced.

“Maria. You should start watching your fuel levels more closely after this, eh?” She said.

“Oh we will. I’m not gonna let that tank dip past half.”

Maria laughed. “Good to know.”

The two of you watched as the boys worked on the gas situation.

“So, are you two a couple?” Maria asked slowly.

“Yep, been together for two years now.” You replied, a smile crossing your face.

“Two years? I don’t see a wedding ring...”

“Oh we’re not married.” You corrected, hurriedly.

“After two years? Me and Sam got married after one year.”

“Is that Sam?” You asked, pointing to the guy helping Peter out. You were also trying your best to avoid the topic of you and Peter.

“Yep, soulmates for life. We’ve been together for nine years now.” Maria replied.

“Nine. When’d you meet?” You asked. Maria and Sam both look pretty young.

“In high school, junior year. We got married after we graduated.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.” You couldn’t help but wonder how different you and Peter’s relationship could have been had you met when you were that young.

“How’d you guys meet?” Maria asked.

“It’s a... long story.”

“(Y/N)!” Peter called from the other side of the car. You took this opportunity to avoid the awkward conversation with Maria. You jogged over to Peter.

“We can hit the road now.” Peter said.

“Cool.” You turned to Sam and Maria, “Thanks so much for the help.”

They nodded and went back to their car. You jumped in the passengers seat and Peter to the drivers and drove off.

**10-ish Minutes Later**  
  
“Goddammit.”

“What?” You asked, already worried.

“We have a flat.”

“Are you serious?” You deadpanned.

“Very. Good news, I brought an extra tire.”

“Good. I’d like to get to the gas station sooner rather than later.”

“Same.” Peter said. “Hey, do we have any more snacks?”

You reached around behind you and looked in the snack-bag. “Uh... no. We’ll have to get more.”

Peter cursed quietly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just without food, I get light headed because my metabolism is still burning at its normal rate except it has nothing to burn.”

“That sounds bad.”

“Oh, yeah. I could pass out at any moment.” Peter said, closing the car door.

You opened yours, “What?”

Peter was pulling the extra tire from the trunk as well as a car jack. You could see him swaying on his feet.

“Oh hell no,” you said, stomping over to him. “You get in the car and rest. I’ll do this.”

“But-“

“No ‘but’s’ Peter. I can change a tire, however I’m not strong enough to carry your unconscious body back into the car if you pass out.”

Peter grumbled an unhappy response and climbed in the passenger seat of the car.

You changed the tire out easy enough and put the car jack back in the trunk. Climbing into the drivers seat you asked Peter if he could look at the map and tell you where the nearest gas station is. Peter didn’t answer. You turned to look at him.

In the passengers seat was one Peter Maximoff, completely passed out. You shook your head and grabbed the map out of his limp hands.  
You figured out where you needed to go and began driving once again.

When you pulled into the gas station, Peter was still unconscious and not in possession of his wallet. You looked through all of his pockets and the floor boards. No wallet anywhere. You cursed. You couldn’t afford anything without his wallet.

You got out of the car and pulled out your duffel bag. In it was your spare wallet. You pulled a few 20’s and threw your bag back into the car. You locked the car doors and went inside the station with the intention to buy enough snacks to satisfy even Peter’s large appetite.

At the checkout counter you had five family-sized bags of chips, fifteen candy bars of varying types, ten of Peter’s favorite soda and a few of yours. You also bought two sandwiches, one hot one for you since you could eat it within the next ten minutes, and a cold one for Peter to eat whenever he wakes up. The checkout guy looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah... I’m gonna need help getting all this into the car. Unless you have a bag I can put it in.”

The guy shrugged and pulled out a few plastic bags, stuffing the snacks inside them.

You paid and said your thanks. You threw the snacks into the car as you climbed in. You wondered if Peter was going to wake up on his own or if you needed to bring him to the hospital. He hadn’t bothered to share that information with you.

You opened the packaging to your sandwich and ate it as you drove back onto the interstate, heading for Augusta.

  
Naturally, bad luck wasn’t done with you yet. When you pulled into the first hotel you saw and climbed out the car, a man in all black with a black ski mask on came up behind you.

“Give me all your money or I’ll shoot you.” He demanded.

Instinctively, you started to phase. A bullet couldn’t hurt you while you were phasing, but you stopped. You were the only thing blocking the man’s view of Peter, and Peter, in his current state, wasn’t bulletproof.  
You turned slowly and put your hands up. “Woah there buddy.”

The man had a gun raised to your head. He pressed it against your skin. “Give me your money.”

“No, I don’t feel like it.” You replied, taking a smooth tone to your voice. You had a plan. Given, it was only 12% of a plan, but it was still a plan.

“Do you feel like getting shot?” He yelled.

You shook your head and started to slowly shuffle in a circle. You continued talking to the man in peaceful tones until his back was to Peter.

“Shoot away, big boy.” You said, trying to catch him off guard.

“What?”

“I said, shoot me. If you shoot me, then you can get to all of my money without an issue. I’m not going to just hand it over. Then again, if you shoot me then you will have murdered someone and that’s illegal. You’ll have to hide my body, and your gun, and wipe away any and all fingerprints you might have left, as well as be paranoid for the rest of your life about getting sent to jail for murder. Sounds like a lot of work, you should probably just leave.”

The guy lowered his gun slightly. You moved to complete the final part of your plan. You walked straight into the man, phasing through him until you came out on the other side. The man spun around, flipped out at the sight of you, and began running. You felt like you shouldn’t laugh, but you did. It was funny.

You hand fed Peter little bits of candy and other sugary things for the next half hour. Eventually, he woke up and looked at you, confused.

“Wha...” He groaned.

“We’re in Augusta, babe. I drove all the way here. There’s a sandwich next to you if you want to eat. We’re at our hotel and it’s late since we had so many delays. I figured we could sight see tomorrow and call it quits for the day.”

Peter murmured something incomprehensible and grabbed his sandwich. He ate it in a matter of seconds. “Is there any more?” He asked.

You pointed towards the chips and candy and watched as he ate the majority of everything you’d bought, including all the sodas.

“You good now?”

“Yeah,” Peter responded, standing.

The two of you got a room and crashed on the bed, not even bothering to perform any of your nightly routines. Peter had an arm wrapped around your waist and you both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it. I didn’t feel like editing it, so I’m sorry for any grammar errors. Unlike usual, I don’t have a lot to say (write?) so I’m just gonna say goodbye and see ya in chapter 6.


	6. Road Trip? Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *hem hem* Welcome to the best chapter yet if you want kissing scenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is chapter six and I’d like to introduce to you Vermont and what happens when the two of them decide to go hiking. This is going to be a pretty steamy chapter, I think. Let’s go.

**(Y/N)’s POV**

“Are you sure you want to go hiking?” You asked Peter.

“Yeah, totally. It’ll be fun.”

“You’re going to have to walk at the same pace as me.”

“I can do that.”

“No you can’t.”

“Yes, I can.” Peter said, defensively.

“No, you really can’t. You start getting all jumpy and impatient.”

“I do not!”

You sighed and shook your head. “Alright, we can try.”

“I will prove this to you,” Peter said, grabbing another bag of chips.

You smiled, “Okay, Twinkie Boy. Whatever you say.” You focused your eyes on the road and the sign up ahead that read ‘White Mountain National Forest.’

The trail you and Peter chose was seven miles in total and had some funky name you’d already forgotten.

The hike started with you and Peter strolling casually, hand in hand. Peter wasn’t jumpy or impatient and he wasn’t trying to make out with you. In other words, he was doing great.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“You wanna play a game?”

“Depends, what’s the game?”

“I’m tied between something like 20 questions and making out with you up against that tree.” Peter answered, casually pointing to a large tree.

You laughed, your cheeks turning red. You could feel Peter’s gaze on you, waiting for an answer.

“You choose, Twinkie Boy.”

“Well, I think you already know what my decision is.” Peter said lowly, moving towards you.

“I’m not entirely sure, you might have to make it more clear to me.”

“How’s this?” He whispered, and his lips fell against yours.

Unlike sometimes when Peter kissed you, this was gentle. It was careful. His wandering hands sent tingles down your spine. You found yourself being pushed against a tree, and Peter was no longer gentle. He bent your head back across his arm and kissed you with an air of intensity that made you cling to him as the only solid thing in a dizzy, swaying world. His insistent mouth was parting your shaking lips, sending wild tremors along your nerves. You knotted your fists into his shirt, pulling him closer. He groaned softly in his throat and his hand went to your hip, pressing you even harder against the tree. The way you kissed each other, it was like your lives depended on it. Your hands flew to his hair, gripping it tight and pulling him closer. Your veins throbbed and you knew that if you kept going like this, your heart would explode. Peter pulled away from you, his lip catching on yours. His hand wandered to you jawline and he stroked it gently. You let out a shaky exhale followed by another shaky inhale. His brown eyes were close to yours and his lips were pink from the kiss. The silver locks of his hair were tangled and his shirt rumpled. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, just like he hadn’t removed his hand from your waist.

“I think I like that option,” you whispered.

“Me too.”

You took Peter’s hand in yours slowly. He interlaced his fingers in your and squeezed gently.

“We should do that more often,” he breathed, rubbing circles into the back of your hand.

“Then it wouldn’t be so special when we do.”

“Maybe, but I’d get to kiss you more often.” Peter reasoned.

You hummed and kissed him lightly on his lips, a breeze after the hurricane. He pulled you by the hand back towards the hike ahead.

“So, 20 questions?” Peter asked.

“Alright,” You responded. “Start asking.”

“Okay... is it living?”

“No.”

“Is it edible?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a meat?”

“No.”

“Candy?”

“Of sorts.”

Peter grumbled and you looked over at him to see his thinking face; eyebrows creased and lips puckered.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s only yes or no questions, Peter.”

“Okay...” Peter sighed loudly. “Is it big like a cake?”

“No.”

“So it’s small.”

“Yep.”

“How many questions am I at?”

“Counting that one, 7.”

Peter rolled his head back and looked at the canopy of trees above them.

“Is it something I would eat?”

“You eat everything, Peter. And yes, it is.”

“Is it brown?”

“No.”

“Yellow?”

“Yes.”

Peter’s face lit up and he did a little victory jump. “I know what it is.”

“Do you?” You questioned, hoping to confuse him.

“It’s a Twinkie.”

You smiled at him, “Good job, baby. You guessed it.”

“Okay, my turn.” Peter said excitedly. His thinking face passed over him again as he tried to think of something. You found yourself staring at his cute expression. The way the skin in between his eyebrows was crinkled and how his cheekbones became more defined because of the position his lips were in. His hair was still disheveled and his lips were slowly returning to their normal shade. The light of the sun reflected softly in his eyes and bounced gracefully off his fair skin.

“I got it.” He asked.

“Okay,” you thought. Might as well start like Peter had. “Is it living?”

“Yes.”

“Is it something you would eat after you kill it?”

“I sure hope not.”

You raised an eyebrow at his answered but Peter gave no indication of that being a strange answer that needed further explanation.

“So... is it from Africa?”

“No.”

“Europe?”

“No.”

“Do you know where it’s from?”

“Yep. That counted as one of your questions, by the way.”

You sighed heavily. “One of the America’s?”

“Yep.”

“North America?”

“Mhmm.”

“Does it have four legs?”

“Nope.” Peter started bouncing as he walked. You weren’t sure if it was in delight at you having no idea as to what his object was or if he was just getting impatient.

“Is it a bird?”

“No.”

“What?”

“That counted.”

“No it didn’t!” You groaned. “Okay, can I have a hint?”

“Only if you want to lose five questions.”

“That’s not even a rule!”

“It is when you’re playing with me.”

You hang your head. “Fine.”

“I love this creature very much.”

“That doesn’t help any, you dumbo.”

“I think it does.”

You thought for a moment. “Is it a mammal?”

“Yes.”

“Does it have a gender?”

“It does.”

“Male?”

“No.”

“Long or short hair?”

“Yes or no only. You have one question left.”

“What!?”

“Oh, you used it. Sorry babe, but you lost.”

You crossed your arms in indignation. “Fine. What was it, then?”

“It was you. My favorite thing in the whole world.” Peter explained, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You can’t do people!” You complained, feeling like an idiot.

“Sure I can.” Peter replied. The two of you had stopped walking now, Peter’s hand had drifted back to your waist.

You wanted to complain further about the unfairness of the round, but Peter’s face was so close to yours that you lost all will to speak.

“I think we should go back to that other option now.” Peter murmured.

You nodded slowly before reaching up and pressing your lips to Peter’s. His lips were soft and demanding as they pressed against yours. The wind whipped around your figures, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. Peter’s hand trace your jawline, pulling your face to his. His other hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, sending electricity running through the nerves in your back as it moved smoothly over your skin. You shuddered at his very touch. You didn’t hesitate to press your hands against his chest and move your kisses slowly down to his jawline and neck. Peter’s exhaled softly as you kissed his skin lightly. His hand redirected your lips back to his, and you found an urgent lilt to the way he kissed you now.

“God, I love you.” He whispered in between kisses.

As if it were a musical, soft patterns of rain started to fall from the sky. That didn’t stop the caress of kisses Peter traced over your skin. His hand moved from your back to your collarbone. He brushed his hand lightly over your breast and you couldn’t help the curl of your fingers into his skin. He was pressing you into him in a way that set every inch of your body on fire, wanting more and more of his touch.

The sky above you opened up and rained thousands and thousands of drops of water on the forest around you, but the only storm you felt was the wild feeling Peter’s touch elicited in you. You started to phase, your hands going straight through Peter’s figure. Peter shivered and you broke the kiss.

“Sorry,” You laughed, looking down at your shoes and the mud puddles slowly gathering around them.

“Hey,” Peter said, lifting your chin. “That was the hottest thing you’ve ever done.”

You laughed shortly, “You really think so?”

“Oh yeah, you should do that more often.” Peter said. “We should go back to the car, and get out of this rain.”

“Take me away, Twinkie Boy.”

He did, because next thing you knew, you were in the car in a different pair of clothes with a towel in your hands for your dripping wet hair. Peter was in the driver's seat, drying his hair out with a towel of his own.

“Where’d the towels come from?”

“A few miles away, no one has towels anywhere near here apparently.”

You grinned and began drying out your hair.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. That was a steamy chapter. I’d also like to say that those were the best kiss scenes I’ve ever written (they were fueled by the entire bag of cookies I ate before writing this.) Anyways, anyone who comments will probably get a shoutout because I love comments more than I love Peter Maximoff. They make my heart sing. Anyways, that’s it for Vermont... next chapter is taking place in Cleveland, Ohio. You can expect a continuation of one of them (or both) getting soaking wet in various states. See ya around.------ Note: I posted this chapter early because I love this chapter and wanted to let you guys love it too. Still posting on Sunday, I think... idk I'm trying to keep a schedule but I'm like three chapters behind how many I'm supposed to have according to the schedule I made for myself and bleh. (Damn that was quite the run on sentence I had there, sorry.)


	7. Road Trip? Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah! Chapter 7 already... holy shit. Well, hello. So this chapter takes place in Cleveland, Ohio. I haven’t been to Cleveland either so I do apologize for inaccurate descriptions. I am trying my best. Unfortunately, this isn’t gonna be as steamy as the last chapter but that’s okay. You gotta take things like this is moderation. Legoooo:

**Peter’s POV**

“What?” You asked.

“Canoeing.” He repeated.

“Canoeing?”

He nodded excitedly.

You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. “Are you okay?”

He laughed and took your hand off his forehead and held onto it gently. “Oh, trust me, I’m fine. In fact, I’m better than fine. I’m great, I just want to go canoeing with you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Canoeing.”

He sighed and ran a quick circle around you. “Canoeing.”

“Fine, but after we visit the museum.”

“Museum?”

“Yeah, the Great Lakes Science Center.” You explained further.

“That’s a science center, not a museum.” He cleared.

You scoffed, “Whatever. I still want to go see it.”

He smiled and picked you up bridal style. One day, I’m going to carry her back down the aisle like this after we’ve kissed and she’s thrown her bouquet.

“Peter! What are you doing?” You yelped.

“Science Center then canoeing. Remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, but could you put me down?”

He kissed the tip of your nose. “No, I like holding you like this.”

You wriggled around in his arms until you could reach behind his neck. “Okay, but you’re gonna have to put me down eventually.”

He carried at speeds to fast for anyone but him to register and set you down gently once they were inside the center. He wasn’t sure if it cost money or not to get in, but he didn’t care. Time returned to normal and your eyes grew wide. You took his hand and began to walk to closest exhibit to you.

Peter held your hand as you dragged him through various exhibits including one on space capsules and space travel, (in which you explained everything to him in detail without looking at any of the information posted around the room because you were a nerd.) one on DNA and other biology stuff, wind and solar works, and a section that was actually about the Great Lakes.

There was a small cafe in the Science Center where the two of you stopped to get lunch. As Peter bit down into his third sandwich, you explained the Theory of Relativity to him even though he had no idea what you were talking about. He payed attention to the little things. How the muscles in your face moved as you talked, how your lips curled up and you gestured wildly with your hands while explaining a particularly confusing part. How a few crumbs had landed on your shirt and how your eyes shined. He quickly grabbed the camera and snapped a picture of you mid sentence.

“What was that for?” You questioned, eyebrows furrowed. He took another picture.

“You just looked so pretty, I had to take a picture.”

Your cheeks turned red and Peter found himself smiling. “When we get back home, we should make a photo album with all the pictures we take.”

You nodded and returned to what you were talking about before he interrupted you.

  
Peter couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as the two of you walked out of the museum. Not because they’d finally get to go canoeing, but because the look of wonder and awe hadn’t left your face after the Science Center. He loved the way you looked when you smiled like that and when you got so ecstatic over nerdy things like space travel and biology. Maybe that’s why he loved watching you when you watched Star Trek: because you looked so damn beautiful.

Peter couldn’t help but run a few circles around you. “So... canoeing?”

“Yes, Peter. We can go canoeing.” You replied, sounding exasperated.

They rented a canoe for the next few hours. You made him lather up with sunscreen and despite how nice it felt as you massaged the sunscreen into his back and shoulders, he wasn’t happy with the use of it. When he climbed inside, he suddenly figured out that canoeing was not a good idea and that the vessel was about as stable as a pencil balancing on the tip of a tack.

Not to mention that canoeing is a lot harder than it seems. You and him had to coordinate each stroke with your respective paddles. It was hell. Not to mention that Peter was pretty sure the sun was burning his scalp off and bleaching his silver hair white. The muscles in his arms burned and he just wanted to go back to shore after about five minutes. Naturally, he didn’t tell you that. He wouldn’t dare, because the smile on your face was so big and the bark of laughter you let out whenever you messed up or a splash of water hit you was to adorable to complain about. So, he paddled on.

“Do you think we should turn around now, Peter?” You asked, turning around to face him.

He placed the paddle so it was resting across the sides of the canoe. He shook out his sore arms. “Probably, but it’s totally up to you.”

“I think we should, by the time we get back we’ll need to leave. Plus, our next stop is Detroit and I want to be awake enough to enjoy it.”

“Sounds good. Can we take a break though, like, just sit out here and chill?” He asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Please,” you begged. “My arms are killing me.”

Peter laughed. “Same.”

“Really? You don’t look tired.”

“Neither do you.”

“Fair enough, Pete’s.”

“Pete’s?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, like Peter without the r.”

“I noticed.”

“Do you like it?” You asked quietly.

“I can like anything you say, as long as it’s preceded or succeeded by a kiss.” He hinted.

“Oh, no. We’re not making out in a canoe, we’ll fall out.” You warned.

He sighed, “I tried my best.”

You smiled and leaned back slowly so that your head was resting on his leg. “What’cha doing?” He asked.

“I’m tired and the closest possible pillow source was you.”

He grinned, “Okay.” He leaned down and kissed you lightly.

You sat up again, making the already precarious orientation of the canoe even more precarious. Peter couldn’t help but notice how close the water was. You turned around completely and sat closer to him. He couldn’t stop himself from moving closer to you as well.

“What happened to no making out in a canoe?” He asked as you put your hand on his cheek.

“I threw it in the trash. It was a stupid idea and I’m in love with you.” You reasoned.

Peter smirked. Slowly, something he never does, he pushed you down into the base of the canoe. He kissed your lips slowly, running over them like molasses. There wasn’t enough room in the canoe for your intertwined bodies, but he didn’t care as he kissed you. It was electrifying and beautiful and suddenly he didn’t care about the precarious tipping of the canoe.

His fingers traced the line of your hips and waist, feeling gently. Your skin was warm from the sun and he liked the way you squirmed slightly at his touch. He broke the kiss and straddled your hips.

“Peter...” you whispered, looking at him. He couldn’t help but notice the way your body moved as you breathed. How a treasure map seemed to be written on the skin of your stomach, showing him the way to you. He leaned back down into the kiss, letting you sweep him away this time.

**(Y/N)’s POV**

There had been many instances where Peter had been on top of you like he was now, but none as arousing. His weight pushed down on you, his hands traced your skin, his lips caressed yours. He smelled like wind and sunscreen. Sometimes, his lips would part slightly and his tongue would slip in and out of your mouth. Everything was slow, meaningful, and each movement drove you mad.

However, slow could only last so long. Things got heated. Kisses became more urgent and insisting. Movements became more wild as Peter kissed you in the base of that canoe. You wanted more of him, but fate seemed to say no. With a wibble and a wobble that you didn’t notice over the excitement racing through your body as Peter moved against you, the canoe tipped over.

Every nerve in your body exploded. From the warmth of the sun and heat of Peter on top of you, you were introduced to a sudden sensation of freezing cold water. You gasped, sprawling in the water. Your head bobbed to the surface and you coughed. Air filled your lungs soon enough and you looked around frantically for Peter. You didn’t see him. Your mind raced. You were so cold. You climbed on top of the overturned canoe, heaving breaths leaving your lungs as your mind returned to normal.

Peter.

You looked around. Water dripped into your eyes and you wiped it off. You looked again. There he was. A few feet away, maybe a yard or two. He was gasping for air, looking around for you. You called for him and his head snapped to you on top of the canoe. The relief was clear on his face. He swam to you, and you could see the hair on his arms standing up and how his teeth chattered. You helped him on top of the canoe.

“You...” Peter coughed up water. “You were right.” He finished.

You laughed, your shaking madly. “Damn right.”

“It was so worth it though.” He added.

“Was it? I’m freezing. The water shouldn’t even be that cold, it’s summer.”

Peter cracked a smile, “I’m sure the Science Center had a poster about it.”

“Shut up. You’re the one that wanted to go canoeing.”

“Yeah, and I got to make out with you while doing it.”

“And then we fell out of the canoe. Good going, Peter.” You said dryly, sarcasm saturating your tone.

Peter paused, hanging his head. “I was scared of losing you for a second there.”

You took his hand. “Me too.”

Peter grasped your hand, his expression serious before it changed completely. “Come on, love. We’ve gotta fix this canoe so we can sit in it right.”

You did, and then you paddled back to shore. You were glad no one asked why the two of you were soaked, water dripping from your hair and clothes. You were also glad you hadn’t brought any important items onto the canoe, because if you had, they would have joined the bottles of sunscreen at the bottom of Lake Erie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not in the mood for editing, so I hope there's not too many mistakes. Also, I know I haven’t put much about the writing on skin stuff, but I swear its purposeful. In my personal headcanon, as long as the two people are together, they don’t get the words. It wouldn’t be that they aren’t with each other at 7 PM, but its more like they are going through a tough time (and they need the words) or they are far apart and are missing each other. So if the reader was in one side of a state and Peter was on the other side, they’d get the writing, but if the reader’s just in a different room, nothing happens. Don’t worry (if you were) because there will be more words on the forearm in upcoming chapters (for what reasons? That’s classified).
> 
> Note: I was on vacation for a while and I missed a few updates. I will be posting the next chapter on Sunday, October 28th. Love you guys!


	8. Road Trip? Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this chapter they go to Detroit and see things and do things and stuff like that. Btw, I just finished writing two essays for school so this chapter is going to be short and crappy because all my writing mojo went into those. (A/N): it’s one week later and I have another essay to write Istg I’m going to die.---- Sorry it took me so long to update guys, I’ve been on vacation without any internet access.

**(Y/N)’s POV**

Detroit. The plan was to go watch the football game in Ford Field, but Peter had other plans. He took you to many places, various attractions you didn’t know the name of, because the speedster had run right past the signs.

Your lips were pursed now, as he stopped the two of you in a beautiful park. It had, what looked like, apartment buildings lining the sides and the greenest grass to ever green.

“Where are we this time?”

“Lafayette Park,” Peter replied.

“And why aren’t we at the football game?”

Peter ignored you. “I could go grab some hotdogs and we can have a picnic here if you want.”

You sighed. “Sure.”

Peter disappeared and you found a place to sit down in the grass, underneath a shade tree. He returned with a blanket and a literal picnic basket. You raised an eyebrow.

“I figured you might want to help set it all out. I know you don’t always like it when I just speed around and do everything.”

You smiled. “Whatever you say, Twinkie Boy.”

You stood and helped him lay down the blanket. He opened the basket wide for you, gesturing like a magician might. You peeked inside and saw two hotdogs, sodas, and twinkies. You barked out a laugh.

“Here I was thinking that you’d bothered with an entire picnic.”

Peter smiled and laughed at you. “I said I was getting hotdogs.”

The two of you ate your lunches and lounged around in the grass. In the distance, you imagined a football game was going on and you two had comlpletely missed it. But your head was in Peter’s laps and he was stroking your hair gently. All of the sudden, you didn’t care. He was humming a quiet tune and he smelled like he always does: like the wind. You closed your eyes.

You must have fallen asleep because next thing you knew, water was dribbling on your face. You awoke with a start to find Peter packing up the picnic basket. His foot nudged you.

“(Y/N), you gotta wake up. It’s raining.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” You deadpanned, wiping the fat water droplets off your face.   
“Oh, good.” Peter said. In a blur of silver, everything was packed up and the blankets slung around your shoulders.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Not sure, I fell asleep too.” Peter responded. “But it’s getting late.”

You nodded. “Do we have a hotel?”

“Yeah, but we were supposed to check in a while ago, I think.”

“Well... I guess we should hurry.”

Peter smiled at you. Next thing you knew, you were outside the hotel doors. The picnic basket was gone, but the blanket was still wrapped around your shoulders.

The two of you entered the hotel. Soft piano music was playing and you realized that someone was actually playing the piano. You grinned at Peter, and he returned it.

You walked up to the desk and got your room number.

  
You put the key in the key hole and turned it. The door clicked before opening. The room was small but lavish. There was a small dresser and a large bed. You dropped the blanket on the floor and bounded up onto the bed. Peter laughed at your childishness as your laid down, spread eagle on the bed.

“What?”  
“You look adorable.” Peter climbed onto the bed with you. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“This the most comfortable bed I’ve ever been in.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

“Can we not leave this bed ever?” Peter moaned quietly into the pillow he currently had his face stuffed into.

“Maybe...” You sighed, curling into a ball of warmth and comfortable bedding.

“We could totally make out on this bed.” Peter suggested.

You rolled your eyes. “We could... or we could not and say we did.”

Peter smirked, “Okay, how about we cuddle and watch tv?”

You nodded and scooted closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you and you snuggled into his shoulder. He must have gotten up to turn on the tv at one point, because Star Trek began blaring.

“I’M A DOCTOR NOT A ESCALATOR!”

You couldn’t stop your smile. You were well aware that Peter was watching you and not the screen, but you couldn’t care less.

“SPOCK, HELP ME!”

You laughed and snuggled closer to Peter. He kissed the top of your forehead and you sighed. Outside the window, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.  
Inside, however, you and Peter were in each other’s arms watching Star Trek like the nerds you were. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it for Chapter 8. You can tell that I’m really out of my writing style because of those essays can’t you? Still, I couldn’t help the Star Trek references. I’m a geek okay? Also, I watched Star Trek Into the Darkness (again) today and I forgot how much I love Karl Urban’s portrayal of Bones and holy shit I’m way off topic. Anywho... goodbye!


End file.
